The Eyes Have It
by Nutzkie
Summary: What's a teen hero to do when her world is suddenly plunged into darkness?  Hold onto those closest to you and hope for the best!  [ONESHOT]


**Usual Legal Crapola:**

Once again, for the record, I don't own Kim Possible, nor do I make any money from this. Kim belongs to Disney, and I'm just borrowing her for my own amusement. _(Dang, did that ever sound wrong.)_ Any similarity to other stories or characters is purely coincidental.

To summarize: I don't own squat, I don't earn squat, and I don't know squat.

And now… On with the show…

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**- The Eyes Have It -**

It was dark.

_Too_ dark.

It was the sort of darkness that doesn't just envelop things, but rather consumes them, enshrouding everything it touches with an unearthly blackness that seems to contradict the laws of physics themselves. It makes no allowance for light of any kind to penetrate its periphery, sealing off its entire realm within an impenetrable boundary of shadow.

It was a darkness that enshrouded the young mind now just awaking to its presence, and it didn't take long for this same mind to realize the presence of the darkness, or to recognize that its presence meant something was terribly wrong.

Snapping quickly into overdrive, the young mind raced through a variety of questions. What's happening to me? Where am I? How did I get here? These questions and many others bounced around off the walls of self-consciousness like a ping-pong ball in a rubber room. Answers… This person needed answers!

Grabbing hold of her own consciousness for a moment, she was able to settle herself down enough to think clearly, allowing her to take clear stock of her surroundings.

"Okay, I'm definitely in a bed of some sort." She thought. "I can feel clean linens around me. There are voices I don't recognize, but they sound far away: Probably in another room. There's also some sort of beeping noise nearby that sounds suspiciously like a piece of monitoring equipment."

"I'm in the hospital." She finally concluded. "It's the only thing that fits."

This, of course, left the question of how the heck she got _into_ the hospital to begin with.

Trying hard to recall everything she could remember leading up to the predicament she currently found herself in, a chain of events soon began to take form.

"Let's see…" she thought silently. "We got the call from Wade, caught the flight to the Andes, confronted Drakken and his latest death-ray-thingy, there was the usual fight with Shego, the ray went off somehow, Ron pushed me out of the way…"

"And then I woke up here." Her chain of thought abruptly ended, leaving a pal of disappointment hanging in the air.

It wasn't exactly the ground-breakingly conclusive thought she had hoped for, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

"Something must have happened when the laser went off." She finally concluded, making the best logical leap she could. "We must have been caught in the blast and… Oh my gosh… RON!"

She was just about to bolt from her bed when she remembered the true extent of her predicament. The darkness that had obscured her vision since she awoke was still there, just as overpowering and impenetrable as ever. Her mind now racing for a logical cause to this condition, her hands shot up to her eyes and rubbed vigorously.

But instead of the expected skin on skin sensation, the only thing she felt was a soft, fibrous layer, covering the entire upper half of her face: A bandage. It didn't take long for the terrible truth to set in, sending a chill down the length of her spine as it did…

_...Kim Possible, was blind._

Without even being fully aware of her actions, she was suddenly calling out for help, calling for Ron, praying desperately that someone would hear.

It wasn't but a few moments before her frantic cries had summoned the presence of a nurse. She quickly fell silent when a reassuring hand was placed upon her shoulder.

"It's all right, Kimberly." An unfamiliar voice spoke out from the darkness. "You're at Middleton Medical Center. You're safe now. I just need you to calm down for me, all right"

"But what happened? Where's Ron?" Kim asked in response, her voice still far from calm.

"Your friend pushed you away from an explosion of some sort." The nurse explained, matter-of-factly. "He caught some shrapnel in his leg, but he'll be okay. He's just gonna be a little sore for a few days."

"And… and what about… me?" Kim asked, the words nearly sticking in her throat.

"Part of the blast caught your face." The anonymous nurse explained. "Fortunately it wasn't a direct hit, so the injuries you suffered weren't critical. You can thank your friend for that, by the way. The down side is that what you did take, you took in your eyes."

"So… will I… will I ever…" She couldn't even bring herself to complete the sentence. It was as if just the simple act of asking would jinx the result, condemning her to a lifetime of perpetual darkness.

"It's too soon to tell, sweetheart." The nurse answered softly, her voice betraying for the first time, a slight twinge of emotion. "It's gonna take time before we know whether the damage is permanent or not."

Kim slumped back into bed, unable to cry, scream, or respond to this news in any outward fashion. The gravity was simply too great to allow for any immediate action on her part. The only response she could muster was complete and total numbness.

It was several moments before she was able to form a complete sentence. When she finally did, it was one that made her cringe the moment she uttered it.

"Where's my mommy."

"Your mother's been notified that you're awake." The nurse replied in her normal professional-like tone. "She'll be down to see you momentarily."

"And what about Ron? I need to see him." Kim implored, cringing once again at her choice of words, recognizing both the truth and the irony in the simple statement.

"Your friend was scheduled for discharge this afternoon, but he should still be here. I'll see if we can track him down."

"Please and thank you." Kim whispered, her voice unable to rise any higher than that.

And with that, Kim listened to the heavy footsteps of the nurse as she quickly left the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts in a darkened world.

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All things considered, being alone did have its perks.

Ever since her mother had arrived, Kim's hospital room had been a beehive of activity, with the elder redhead as its self-appointed queen. Anne simultaneously questioned Kim about her condition, ordered entire batteries of tests, passed down commands to nurses and orderlies, and generally tried to make herself useful by any means she could think of. For Kim, such obsessive behavior was expected from her mother, but that didn't make it any less annoying.

Above the cacophony of bustling orderlies and her mother's constant prattling, Kim listened intently for a particular sound: A sound that she longed for, that she needed to hear now more than ever.

When the sound came, it turned the head of every person in the now quite crowded room. The crashing of dishes in the corridor suddenly plunged the entire assemblage into silence. Then, a lone voice lofted through the open door.

"Why on earth would you leave a cart there? Seriously, dudes! Oh, and like, sorry 'bout that. Ya know… some lemon juice will probably take that right out."

Moments later, Kim became aware of another presence entering the room, and to spite the still limited time that she had been blind, she swore she could hear the sound of a limp.

"Ron!" she cried out, her arms flailing about wildly as she desperately sought out his form.

An instant later, two large, strong hands captured her left arm in their grasp, and pulled her into an embrace. Throwing her arms around his neck, she buried her face into his shoulder and inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to fill her nose. She had always enjoyed Ron's scent, and now it was more important to her than ever. Without the ability to see him, it was one of the very few means she had of confirming his identity.

"Thank God you're here, Ron." She cried softly. "Thank God you're okay."

"I know." He replied in an equally soft tone. "Don't worry… I gotcha, and I ain't going anywhere."

For several moments, the pair simply held each other in this fashion, neither one wanting to let the other go. It was Kim's mother who finally broke the moment, insisting that there was still much to be done, and that her examination was far from over.

Although the constant barrage of tests and questions was to continue for at least another hour, Kim now found that she didn't mind nearly as much as she had a few minutes before. There was something about having Ron at her bedside, constantly holding her hand that made the continual fussing and fretting easier to take. As was his nature, he helped to keep her grounded, providing a steady point of reference in a ferociously turbulent sitch.

Where only minutes before time had seemed to drag on interminably, the hours now seemed to fly by. After the tests were complete, the young couple was left alone to talk, discussing the recent mission, cheer routines, and all of the various topics that comprise the life and world of your average high school teen super hero. For Kim, the conversation was so enjoyable that she soon forgot about the seriousness of her condition, and simply gave into the enjoyment of Ron's company. It was a wonderful time that came to a crashing halt with the intrusion of a familiar, yet unwelcome voice.

"Okay, you two lovebirds. Visiting hours are over." The voice interjected over their conversation. Kim instantly recognized the nurse who had attended to her when she first woke up, and scowled slightly at the thought. "Your blond friend here can come back tomorrow after noon."

"Oh, I… uh… awwww, _man!_" Ron whined, slowly getting up from his seat.

Kim could sense the motion beside her, and a fresh wave of terror washed over her. With the reflexes of a cat and the speed of a gazelle, she lashed out with her left hand, reaching blindly for Ron. By sheer luck, she found her mark, grasping his right arm and pulling him back toward her with a vice-like grip.

"No, Ron, please don't go." She pleaded. "Don't leave me alone in the dark. I don't think I can make it through the night alone."

"Can't make it through the night? Are you serious, KP?" Ron asked incredulously. A Kim Possible so unsure of her self was something he simply never expected to see. For him and most others, an uncertain Kim Possible was a concept like "military intelligence:" A complete contradiction of terms.

"C'mon, KP," he reassured her, "try to remember: You're the girl who can do anything."

"Ron…"

"Yeah."

"I'm scared."

These two words drove a stake into Ron's heart the way nothing else could at this moment. Kim's voice was weak as she said them, barely audible, but clearly trembling. It carried with it the frantic pleas of a soul teetering on the edge of oblivion, uncertain of whether it would survive to see morning's light. It was obvious that she was positively terrified of spending the night alone with her condition, and his heart broke to see her in such a state.

With tears quickly forming behind her bandages, and now using both hands, Kim clung desperately to Ron's arm. To her, it wasn't just an arm, but a lifeline. An unbreakable tether, connecting her to the one thing in her world that, at this moment, was still recognizable and familiar. She would hold onto that tether, no matter what, lest she be swept away by the maelstrom that was now raging through her entire world.

"Notify Doctor Possible… She'll give the okay." Ron finally stated flatly, looking over his shoulder to address the nurse. "I'm staying right here for now."

The nurse momentarily regarded the tow-headed young man before shrugging and turning to leave with a snort. She wasn't paid enough to deal with young, bull-headed people such as this, and she had no doubt that if she took the time to inquire, Dr. Possible would do just as the young man had said she would. The bottom line was that this simply wasn't her fight. She had other battles to attend to.

Waiting until the door was fully shut, Ron made his way to Kim's bedside, taking her hands in his as he did so.

"I guess I'll make do with the chair tonight." He lamented, lovingly observing his friend, whose unseeing gaze remained fixed on the far wall of the room.

"No, Ron." Came Kim's unexpected reply.

"Uh, okay… Confused, here." Ron lamented, unsure of what his girlfriend was getting at.

Kim's meaning became abundantly clear, however, when she rolled over onto her side and scooted herself to the far side of the bed.

"Uh, KP… Not that I don't think this is a badical idea, or anything," he stammered nervously. "But… Your mother's on duty tonight, and… uh… _ho boy!_"

"It's okay, Ron." Kim tried to reassure him. "It's not like that at all."

"Okay then, so what's up with…?"

"I just need you to hold me tonight."

There was no response.

"Please." She asked, her voice clearly pleading in its tone.

When Ron finally did respond, it wasn't by verbal means. With no small amount of his usual clumsiness, he managed to vault his way over the bed rail and into a position beside Kim. Gently, he pulled himself up into a position where he was spooned against her back, and with one arm tucked underneath his pillow, he draped his free arm over her waist, pulling her close against him self.

Kim immediately responded in kind, placing her arm over Ron's and intertwining her fingers with his. The sensation of his warm breath on the back of her neck sent shivers down her spine, and the knowledge that her would be right there with her throughout the night gave her a strength that she knew she would have never otherwise found.

As uncertain as her future was right now, she knew she could face whatever challenges the dawn might bring…

Just as long as Ron was with her.

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Sleep is a curious beast. Far from the simple state of rest that many people view it as, it actually exists on a multitude of levels, taking on and passing through many stages and forms throughout the course of the night. Passing through these stages like arbors along a garden path, the mind takes a journey of sorts, eventually arriving at its ultimate destination of consciousness with the coming of the morning.

Many of these waypoints are identifiable, with clinical names like "Deep Sleep," "Transitional Sleep," and "Rapid Eye Movement," making the science of sleep a legitimate discipline within the field of modern medicine.

There is another stage of sleep, however: One not covered in medical textbooks or scientific journals. It's a mysterious state of being, where the mind is at rest, while at the same time, not fully asleep: A paradox of consciousness where the subject is at once both asleep, and at least peripherally aware of his or her surroundings. Some chose to refer to this bizarre state of being as "'Tween Sleep," admitting that its consequences can occasionally be somewhat curious.

This was the state that Kim Possible currently found herself within. She was asleep, and to the best of her awareness, she was dreaming. However she was also aware that she was sleeping, and that the current ruminations of her mind were nothing more than the dreams they were. She could feel a slight chill in the air, and she instinctively drew the covers up around herself. She sighed contentedly, then quickly caught her breath as something dawned on her…

She was cold on both sides.

The chill across her front was to be expected. It was clear, after all, that she had shifted her position sometime during the night, and the blanket that enveloped her had fallen away. What wasn't expected was the chill across her back. After all, that had been Ron's position when they had both fallen asleep a few hours ago. By all logic she should still be feeling the soothing warmth of his body: His presence shielding her from the chill of nighttime air.

Reaching behind herself with her free hand, she searched for his reassuring form, suspecting that he had simply rolled over at some point, and now occupied the far side of the bed. When her efforts netted her nothing but empty bed sheets, however, panic was quick to set in. She rolled over violently, knotting herself up in the blankets, her arms flailing wildly about, searching desperately for some sign of her suddenly absent bedmate.

"Ron? Ro… RON!!!" she cried out, her voice quickly jumping two octaves in pitch. "Where are you, Ron?! Please… SAY SOMETHING!"

Suddenly, there was a frantic rustling from an adjoining room, the sound of a door swinging open, and she quickly found herself enveloped by two strong, sensitive arms.

"I'm right here, KP." Ron reassured her, pulling her trembling form close against him self and gently stroking her hair. "I'm right here."

"Where were you?" Kim asked, her quivering voice a mixture of anger, relief and fear. "I woke up, and you weren't…"

"I'm sorry, Kim." Ron explained, taking care to keep his voice as low and as soothing as possible. "I wanted to tell you, but you were sleeping so peacefully, and well, the human bladder only holds seventeen ounces."

"_Ewww."_ Kim lamented, finding the remark to somehow be both humorous and beyond gross. "Thanks for that tidbit, Mister factoid. Just how is it that you know that, anyway?"

"Simple… We're in a hospital, KP," he explained, "and these people have some weird tastes in posters."

Kim cringed, thinking back to a time when her mother brought home a stack of such artwork, displaying a detailed graphic representation of the human digestive tract. As best she could recall, it had been an entire week before her appetite fully returned following that incident.

Shaking off such thoughts, she now returned her attention to the figure who was still tenderly cradling her against itself.

"Okay, Ron, I understand." She whispered. "But don't you ever go off like that again. I need to know where you are at all times, okay? I need you to be my eyes right now."

"And when you're sleeping?"

"Don't worry about that. I'm stuck in a hospital bed, remember? I've got plenty of time to sleep."

"Yeah, good point."

"Mmmm hmmm… Now speaking of sleep, let's get back to that, shall we?" She observed, extricating herself from the blankets enough to allow Ron passage back into his original position.

Once again, his presence calmed her mind and soothed her soul, but she still felt somewhat rattled by the previous experience. Seeking added reassurance that he was indeed there, she abandon her previous position, rolling over to face him directly, and wrapping her arms around his chest to hold him close.

Her heart momentarily fluttered when she felt him respond in kind, taking her in his own strong embrace, and softly stroking her hair. She sighed contentedly, realizing that if it wasn't for the ferociously serious sitch she was now in, this would be the most wonderful of experiences.

"Thank-you, Ron. I love you." She whispered serenely.

"Back atcha', KP." He softly replied.

For Kim, falling asleep in Ron's arms just seemed so natural: As natural as breathing, in some ways. She couldn't very well live without air, and she realized that she couldn't live without Ron either. Her entire body shuddered involuntarily when she considered what she would be experiencing right now if he wasn't there. To think that she might be facing these trials alone was something too terrifying for mere words to convey. She knew that she could never be thankful enough for having him in her life.

She returned to the realm of dreams that night, thanking the heavens that they had seen fit to send him to her, all those years ago.

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For the next few days, time seemed to drag on interminably. Not only because of the boredom involved with being constantly confined to a hospital bed, but because there was simply no means of marking time's passing. Living within a pitch-black world, Kim could not read a clock, nor note the cycles of the sun. Deprived of her vision, she was completely cut off from the world she knew, and it caused her to feel smaller and more vulnerable than she ever had before.

The one recognizable landmark she still had was Ron, and true to his nature, he had been as faithful and steadfast as ever. For the past four days, save for the performance of certainly bodily functions, and issues involving personal hygiene, he hadn't left her side. He helped feed her when mealtime came, kept her company with idle conversation, held her hand when she became frightened, and slept right beside her, holding her close through the night, fending off the demons and doubts that plagued her mind.

Holding back such mental demons was proving to be a more and more daunting task as the days went by. Her mother had used her connections, assembling a crack team of leading optometrists, but there was only so much that modern medicine could do. Again and again, these so-called experts assured her that there was still hope, and that her vision may return. Again and again, when the nurse came to change her bandages, the only thing to greet her eyes was darkness. Every time, disappointment was the end result, and every time, her hopes faded a little more.

Depression and frustration were quickly setting in. There were times when she would scream and rant, cursing Drakken and his infernal schemes for doing this to her, and there were other times when she would retreat into herself, curling up under the covers into a fetal position, saying nothing for hours on end.

For Ron, it was a display that broke his heart. To see his lifelong friend in such a state wasn't just depressing, it was downright unnerving. She was normally so strong, so steady, so supremely confident: She carried herself as though no sitch could ever faze her. She walked as though she could tame the elemental forces of nature and bend them to her will. This was the girl he had grown up with. This was the woman he had fallen in love with.

And now, that beautiful young woman was gone, replaced by the broken and defeated vision that lay in the bed before him. His fists clenched when he thought of everything that had been taken from her, from _them,_ and he began to harbor thoughts of revenge. He shuddered to think what he might do if he ever crossed paths with the blue-hued mad scientist and his erstwhile assistant again.

It had been during one of Kim's "anger episodes" that Ron had momentarily lost control and let his own frustrations slip into the mix: Something that he had promised himself he would never do.

"Well how the heck do you think I feel?" he had growled after Kim had gone into a tearful, venom-laced monologue about how ferociously unfair the whole sitch was. "You think this isn't effecting me at all?"

"Hey! At least you can still see!" She had shot back at him. "Just what do you think you have to complain about, anyway?"

"Well for starters there's the fact that I'm looking at gauze here!" he had snapped in response, in no mood for Kim's accusatory tone.

"Wha… what?" Kim stammered, not understanding Ron's meaning, and hoping that she hadn't just discovered yet another eccentric phobia of his.

Ron sighed dejectedly. As usual, he had just royally put his foot in it, and an explanation was now most definitely in order.

"Your eyes, Kim." He began to explain. "You always had the most beautilicious eyes, and looking into them always did something to me. Even back when we were just kids, there was something special about your eyes. I can't explain it, but I always seemed to find some sense of peace in them."

"And now…" He looked down and ground his teeth, red-hot rage boiling up inside of him once again. The rage threatened an explosion until Kim reached over, and after some searching, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Then, her arms were around him, sensing the anger coarse through his body, before slowly dissipating into a sense of calmness once again. She could tell he was taking her situation hard, far harder than she had imagined, and she felt awful about having snapped at him the way she had. He had fully invested himself into the sitch, and he was in this with her for the long haul.

"Shhhh… It's okay, baby. I didn't mean to shout like that." She tearfully assured him. "It's like you said: We'll get through this. I promise we will."

"Yeah, I know." Ron replied, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "We'll deal… Just like we always do."

Kim moaned lightly with pleasure as Ron reached around behind her and began to gently massage the muscles of her back. Without the distractions of the visual world, the sensation of his gentle handiwork seemed all the more intense. It was a small bright spot in a literal sea of darkness, and it was something she could latch onto as a means of raising her own spirits.

"Feeling tired?" Ron asked, continuing to work on Kim's shoulders.

"Mmmm-hmmmmm." She softly moaned in response, thoroughly enjoying the attention she was now receiving.

Moving slowly, Ron gently laid them both down onto the mattress, never ceasing his ministrations. Relaxed by both Ron's tender touch and soothing warmth, it wasn't long before Kim was asleep once again, her dreams filled with nothing but good, knowing that her true soul mate was there to watch over her.

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For most people unfortunate enough to endure hospitalization, the day of their discharge is a day that can't come soon enough. Exchanging the cold, brightly lit, antiseptic environment of the health care system for the familiar comforts of home is a cause for celebration if there ever was one.

For a certain teen heroine, however, the event was anything but celebratory. When one is deprived of their vision, after all, all environments look the same. Her attic bedroom was just the same to her as her hospital room. Her world was darkness, no matter where she went.

Fortunately, just as had been the case throughout her hospitalization, Ron was right beside her. He had held her for the entire ride home, and had carried her bridal-style up the stairs to her room. Even when his parents called to check in, he had refused to leave her side. He would stay as long as she needed him to. There was simply no other way about it.

And then there were other parts of the hospital experience that had followed her home as well. Just as the nurses had done during the entire course of her stay, now her mother made regular visits to her room, changing her bandages and re-applying the medicated ointment that made up the bulk of her treatment. The doctors continued to insist that her vision may still return of its own accord, but that there wasn't much they could do in the mean time, save for continually applying the greasy, strange-smelling substance to her face.

At times, she just wanted to scream. She felt trapped by the sitch, saddled with an oppressive disability, and having little to no means of fighting back against it. In her previous life, she had always been the one who called the shots: Always taking charge of the situation and forcing circumstances to submit to her will, rather than the other way around. To suddenly find herself being dictated to by circumstance cut against everything that she was, or had ever been proud of being.

Slowly, she had begun trying to do things for herself, searching for some measure of independence as a means of asserting herself over the circumstances. It was a slow, painful process, full of pitfalls and missteps. At times, she felt like ripping off her bandages, pulling her eyes from their sockets, and squeezing them in the palm of her hand until they agreed to obey her commands, commencing to function once again.

It was this urge to assert her self that led her to get out of bed one evening and mount a search. Ron had momentarily gone downstairs to take a shower, and she felt herself in need of something to hold onto.

Unfortunately, her beloved Pandaroo was not in his usual place of honor upon the nightstand. Instead, he was at rest atop the dresser to the far side of the room. Kim silently cursed herself for leaving the plush creature in such an inaccessible position, and slowly eased herself out of bed.

Gradually, deliberately, using utmost caution, she made her way across the room, reaching out blindly in front of her self, feeling for any landmarks or obstacles that may lie in her path. Her bare feet moved painstakingly across the carpeted floor, probing the darkness with each step, searching for safety, only attempting another step after the present one was assured.

She had made several feet of progress when one misstep caught the edge of her ever-present beanbag chair. The sudden shift in weight was slight, but it was enough, sending her surging forward through the air. Instinctively, she raised her hands to brace herself against the impact she knew was coming, but without her sight, she had no way to judge her distance from the floor. She hit the carpet hard, face first, the stinging sensation of a rug burn cutting across her forehead.

Momentarily stunned by the abrupt impact, Kim simply laid there for several seconds. Then, as she slowly regained her faculties, she rolled over, gazed up at the heavens, and let loose with a scream that seemed to shake the entire house to its foundation. It was a scream of sheer rage, born of equal parts anger, frustration, hopelessness and fear. It was the last straw.

Tensing her entire body and arching her back against the floor, she reached to her face and began violently tearing at the fabric that covered her eyes, determined to do something, anything, to take control over the sitch. She was acting on pure impulse, not thinking about her actions or their consequences. She would do the only thing she could do, she told herself. She was through being the damsel in distress.

She had almost succeeded in getting the first layer off when her wrists were seized a pair of large hands.

"No, KP!" Ron shouted at her. "You'll just make it worse!"

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT WORSE!" She screamed in response. "I'M IN THE DARK, DAMMIT!!!"

"I know, I know," Ron replied, doing everything he could to calm his girlfriend down. "But we have to listen to the doctors! If we don't, then we totally risk ruining any progress that's been made!"

"DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT PROGRESS!" she shouted, turning her unseeing gaze toward the heavens. "DAMN YOU! GIVE ME BACK MY EYES!"

Sensing that Kim was on the verge of tearing at her bandages once again, Ron deftly maneuvered himself behind his enraged girlfriend and wrapped his arms around her torso, pinning her own arms to her sides.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU SON OF A… ARRRRRGH!!!" she screamed, kicking and thrashing as she struggled against Ron's grasp. If the sitch wanted a fight, then a fight was what it was going to get: Even if she wound up fighting her best friend in the process.

Holding onto Kim's lithe form for dear life, Ron slowly managed to drag the two of them over to the bed. After finally managing to sit down, he maintained his vice-like grip for several more minutes as the last of Kim's tantrum played itself out. Finally, both physically and emotionally spent, she simply collapsed into his embrace, unable to carry on any longer.

"I… I'm sorry." She sniffed, leaning back into him. "I just called you all those nasty names and… I… Ugh… I'm just so stupid."

"No you're not." Ron assured her, gently whispering into her ear. "You're just human, is all. You're holding up just as well as anyone would expect you to, given the sitch."

Kim could feel the beginnings of a good cry welling up inside of her, and she leaned back into Ron's embrace even more. If he kept his current hold on her forever, she figured that she wouldn't mind a bit.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?" she softly asked, sniffing back burgeoning tears.

"You were yourself." Came his equally soft reply. "That's all you ever had to be."

If it were physically possible to sink back any farther into Ron's embrace, Kim chose this moment to do so. Completely exhausted by the ruckus she had caused, it was all she could do to avoid falling asleep right then and there.

And at the moment, she wasn't the only one in that particular boat.

The exertions of the struggle had taken their toll on Ron as well, and he realized that they both were in serious need of a good night's sleep. Pulling the covers back behind them, he gently laid Kim's softly sobbing form down beside him self, and drew the softness of the comforter up around them both.

Fighting a loosing battle against the drowsiness that was quickly overtaking her, Kim rolled over to face her friend, placing her arms around him as she did. She lightly kissed the tip of his nose, and just as she had every night since her ordeal had begun, she thanked him and told him that she loved him.

And that night, she clung to him like she had never clung to him before. He was a life preserver in a storm-tossed sea. If she could only hold on to him, she would make it through the night.

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Waking up in the morning can be a difficult prospect for many people. The act of voluntarily abandoning mankind's only natural form of recreation for the stresses and situations of the waking world seems to be, by its very nature, an act of total insanity. It is a natural state of being, concluded by a very unnatural act.

For those individuals without sight, however, the task becomes even more daunting. Trapped within a world of perpetual night, morning becomes an abstract concept, indistinguishable from any other point on the clock. One may know the difference between feeling sleepy and feeling rested, but morning itself is relegated to the role of a mere word: Utterly meaningless to the nature of their existence.

As Kim Possible's eyes fluttered open to a darkened world once again, she heaved a sigh of utter resignation. Every morning she awoke, hoping that this would be the day her living nightmare would end, and every morning she was disappointed yet again. The hope in her heart, which had been dwindling over the past week, was now critically low. She was all but ready to admit defeat and accept the vision of her fate: A lifetime spent sitting on a lonely street corner, holding a tin cup and selling pencils.

Taking stock of her surroundings, she noted the pool of warmth at her back. Ron was still with her, so things weren't as bad as they could be. He had truly been her salvation over the past seven days, standing right beside her, as strong and steady as the mountains outside her window. She honestly didn't know how she would have survived the week without him.

Reaching up to run her fingers across the material obscuring her eyes, she suddenly felt an itch on her right cheek. Maneuvering her hand for a satisfying scratch, her fingers lightly slipped underneath the edge of the gauze wrapping that obscured the upper half of her face.

_And that was when it happened._

Suddenly, for the briefest of instants, there was a faint flash of light, so fleeting in it's passing that she momentarily doubted whether she had actually seen it at all. An instant later, her heart had accelerated to "drum-roll" cadence, and her breathing had suddenly become shallow and ragged. Slowly, gingerly, she reached up to her face once again, and lightly lifted the edge of the gauze from her skin.

"Ron… Ron… Wake up!" She whispered frantically, driving a light elbow back into her sleeping companion.

"_Snort…_ Huh… I didn't do it." Ron groggily responded, still more asleep than awake.

"Being serious here, Ron." She prodded again. "Naptime's over. I think I can see daylight."

"Of course you can see daylight, KP." Ron moaned into the pillow, his sleep addled mind still refusing entry to his consciousness. "It's morning, after all."

He rolled over into the embrace of the covers once again, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Kim. True to his nature, he was being his usually oblivious self. Such bouts of oblivion, however, were notoriously short-lived, Kim recalled with a smile. If you knew him well enough, you could almost set your watch by them.

Silently, she began a mental countdown.

_Three… _

_Two…_

_One…_

"Wh, wha… _What?_ You can _SEE?!_" He shouted, instantly bolting upright, then grabbing his temples as the physiological effects of sitting up so quickly made their presence known.

"Are you sure?" he frantically inquired, once the dizzying sensation of the head rush had come and gone.

"I… I think so." Kim replied, her voice brimming with hope, and tears already starting to form underneath her bandages.

"Hang on, then!" Ron enthusiastically shouted, leaping out of bed. "Let me go get your mom!"

"Don't bother, baby… Mom's pulling a double shift at the hospital this morning." Kim reminded him as he sprinted toward the entryway hatch.

"Your dad, then?" he asked, pulling up short.

"All-nighter at the space center. Testing some new engine, or something."

"Your brothers?"

"Sleepover."

"Well, I'm fresh out of ideas, then."

"Good, because I'm not."

"Say again."

"There's some scissors on the desk if you need them, Ron."

"Huh? KP, I don't think I'm the best one to…"

"It's okay, Ron. I trust you."

"But… but what if I mess something up. If I were to hurt you, Kim, I… I don't think I could…"

"Ron…"

"Yeah."

"I already told you: I trust you."

Ron swallowed hard, unrestrained panic quickly swelling up within him. He was certainly no doctor, after all. He wasn't even that bright by normal high school standards. Proper procedure for removing eye compresses was something that he knew less than zero about. But still, Kim needed him to do this, and as much as he wanted to protect her, he couldn't force her to spend the entire day blindfolded by multiple layers of cotton and gauze: Not when there was a chance her ordeal might finally be over.

Forcing down both his fears and the bile now encroaching into his throat, he made his way back to the bed, kneeling directly in front of Kim. He wasn't going to chance using the scissors, as she still might be mistaken. If that proved to be the case, then he would immediately re-wrap her eyes. There would be no other way about it.

Slowly, layer-by-layer, the bleach-white gauze was peeled away, bringing her ever closer to the light of day. The seconds seemed to crawl by as Ron methodically worked his way around her head, again and again, allowing a growing wad of material to accumulate in his hands. Finally, the final inches of material fell away, leaving only two cotton pads between her and the visual world.

Would she find this world again? The prospect of this question both exhilarated and terrified her. Her entire life seemed to be riding on this one, simple answer.

"Okay, now put your hand up to shade your eyes." Ron commanded, recalling seeing something similar to this once on a television program. It wasn't the best reference guide in the world, but it made some sense, and it was all he had.

Kim did as Ron instructed, and he gently reached up, carefully plucking the oval-shaped pads from their resting places atop her cheekbones.

"Okay then…" He stated, his voice shaking with trepidation and anxiety. "Try opening them… s-l-o-w-l-y."

With all the speed and grace of a rusty garage door, Kim slowly allowed a narrow slit to form between her upper and lower eyelids. The searing pain that immediately ensued forced her to clamp them shut once again, the presence of light after so long in darkness constituting a luminary assault upon her dilated pupils.

Gritting her teeth, she fought back against the pain and pushed forward, forcing herself into another attempt. Once again, she opened a narrow crack between her eyelids, this time standing firm, blinking repeatedly, but not closing them entirely. Slowly, the pain ebbed, and she found her eyes opening to an ever-widening margin. She gasped, as she realized that her room was flooded with light.

Physical objects were fuzzy to say the least, with elements such as her desk, her dresser, and the bed appearing as little more than shaded blobs of color. Slowly, however, this too began to change, her eyes re-learning how to focus after so many days of inactivity. The anonymous forms around her soon began to take on more well-defined shapes, her world continually increasing in clarity, until every minute detail revealed itself to her as if she had just won some cosmic game of "hide-and-seek."

Glancing about the room, she observed her surroundings, taking note that everything was exactly as it had been on the day they left for Chile to confront Drakken. Then, her gaze fell upon the teary-eyed figure that was still kneeling in front of her, a wad of gauze still clutched in his trembling hands.

Wordlessly moving to the floor, she knelt in front of him, taking his face in her hands. With all the care and attention to detail of a scholar examining an ancient artifact, she studied his cherubic features: the large ears, the boyish freckles that she secretly hoped he'd never lose, the chocolate brown eyes that could magically captivate her very soul: Eyes, it seemed, that she could become lost in forever. It was a face that she had spent an entire childhood growing up with, a face that she knew intimately, and at this particular moment, it was as if she was seeing it for the very first time. It was familiar, it was routine, and it couldn't have been more beautiful.

As she continued to gaze upon this most wonderful of sights, Kim became aware that the observation was mutual. As she stared longingly into his eyes, Ron was staring just as longingly into hers. He knelt there, completely transfixed, taking in every detail of those two magnificent, emerald-green orbs that just a few hours ago, he had silently feared he would never see again. To look into Kim's eyes, and to see her looking back through them: This was what he had hoped for, had prayed for, had spent an entire week longing for. This was his reward for having been a good friend, for having stuck beside her throughout the entire ordeal, never allowing her to give up hope, even when he had felt like giving up himself.

For two young lovers, this was officially the breaking point. Time slowed to a standstill as they fell into each other's arms, mutually weeping tears of joy. To be complete once again, both of them, and to still have each other, lifted them both onto a plateau of pure joy that few people will ever be fortunate enough to experience. Alternately laughing and crying, they hugged each other so tight that they feared their ribs would crack, but they didn't care. This was their moment of redemption: A magical nexus of time where they knew they could weather any storm, and that everything would be okay.

Slowly, as they both regained their wits about them, the pair rose to their feet and moved to the picture window by Kim's desk. Staring out onto the mountainous backdrop of her neighborhood, Kim was mesmerized by the view. It was something that she had seen almost every day since she was old enough to remember, and yet it now seemed so new. There were details that had always been there, hiding unnoticed in the landscape, waiting until the present moment to come to the forefront of her vision. It was a view she had always taken for granted, just like so many others throughout her life: A view that now took on a special meaning all its own.

Allowing Ron to place his arm around her, Kim laid her head against his shoulder and sighed contentedly. A single tear slid silently down her cheek.

"I never realized it, but it's all just so beautiful." She commented dreamily as they both watched the sun rise slowly over the distant mountain ridge.

"Of course it is… There's beauty in everything, KP." Ron philosophically observed, taking in the display of nature's pageantry. "It's really just a matter of looking close enough to see it."

With this remark, Kim raised her gaze up to meet Ron's, and the small space between them gradually became even smaller.

"Too true." She observed as their lips met. "Beauty is just a matter of being close."

**- The End -**

-------------------------------------------

**Author's Notes:**

Well, I hope everyone liked this little one-shot. (Okay, maybe not so little.)

This all came from an idea I had during a slow period at work about three days ago.

I realize that the whole blindness thing isn't really a new idea for fan fiction. "Brown" by _3VAD127,_ and _Ashley Benlove's_ "Kim's Eyes" are good examples of how this plot device has been utilized in the past. I guess what I was trying to do here was take a new angle on an old idea, focusing not on the condition itself, but on the character's reactions, both in terms of the one affected, and the individuals around them.

Blindness makes for such a gripping story, I believe, because vision is such a fundamental part of who we are. Human beings are, after all, primarily visual creatures. Our eyes are, from a evolutionary perspective, the most highly-developed of all our sensory organs, and many sociologists estimate that up to 80 percent of the information we process is visual in nature. Vision forms the foundation upon which our very existence is built, and as a consequence, when you take away a person's sight, you take away a large part of their humanity. With the loss of vision, one loses the ability to perform nearly every essential task in life. For the most part, these are things that can be re-learned, of course, but whatever is gained through adaptation and perseverance can never truly equal what was lost. No matter the circumstances involved, a certain part of one's own self is invariably lost forever.

In any case, I honestly hope you enjoyed this little ditty of a story that, for whatever reason, chose to burrow into my brain during my Monday morning coffee break. (I swear… I _really_ need to switch to decaf.) In regards to the future, I have another one-shot that now stands partially completed, and a much larger, epic-length story that is still in the planning stages.

But as the Bard said, after all… "Even the longest journey starts with a small, single, three-hour delay at the airport."

Take care, and stay out of drafts!

_Nutzkie…_


End file.
